


Revolutionary Passions

by ancslove



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Adrenaline, Canon Era, M/M, Minor Violence, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Virgin Enjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 06:05:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13675800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancslove/pseuds/ancslove
Summary: A late-night meeting gone awry leads Enjolras and Bahorel to seek release.  And what better release after an adrenaline rush, than sex?





	Revolutionary Passions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [within_a_dream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/gifts).



The crack of the gunshot signaled their flight from the dark alleyway. The meeting had become a quarrel had become a fistfight, and now threatened to become an impromptu duel. Or worse, as the Surete arrived. Enjolras took the lead, sprinting through the narrow streets, trusting Bahorel to keep pace with him. Bahorel’s flat was closer, and they ducked inside, stealing up the stairs as quickly and quietly as they could. Enjolras dropped onto the worn couch gratefully, mind still on the evening’s disastrous affair. He would turn over the events, the words and passions that tipped into full-blown violence, at length in the coming days. Pore over the night’s deeds until he was satisfied that he could prevent a second deterioration.

Bahorel paced the floor, arms waving and eyes flashing passionately, still too wound up to ruminate.

“Bloody hell! Those cowards think they can afford to wait and hedge their bets! Can’t they see that their inaction won’t protect them if we lose?”

“Be calm, my friend. They will see reason eventually. The time is drawing near; they will have to take a stand, sooner or later.”

Bahorel snorted. “Let’s hope they come round sooner, for all our sakes.”

“Perhaps if you hadn’t thrown the first punch,” Enjolras trailed off.

“Ha! The man was practically begging for a bloody nose!”

Bahorel turned to his friend. “Best stay the night, Enjolras. The streets will be crawling with gendarmes, thanks to that idiot with more bullets than sense.”

Enjolras, already in the process of stripping off cravat and waistcoat, smiled his thanks. Gathering up the loose cravat, he tried to calm Bahorel’s fervor.

“Enough. You throw more blood around with every gesture. Did you not notice the gash in your forearm?”

Bahorel stilled, glancing down at his bleeding arm in amused surprise. “Actually, I had not. When did I get that?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea. But strip out of that shirt and then hold still, so I can fix it.”

Once Bahorel obeyed, Enjolras set to work examining and cleaning the wound. He’d picked up a decent bit of medical knowledge from Combeferre, over the years. At least enough to patch minor battlefield injuries. He wrapped the gash with quick, precise movements, wholly concentrated on his task, until Bahorel’s other hand lifted to cup his cheek.

Enjolras looked up, into eyes darkened with a different kind of passion. The kiss, when it came, was as surprising for its gentleness as its occurrence. Bahorel’s lips were soft, pressing and coaxing, first slowly and then, as Enjolras yielded, more insistently. Enjolras opened, allowing Bahorel’s tongue to enter his mouth. The big hand stroked his cheek as the tongue mapped and claimed his mouth.

Enjolras leaned forward involuntarily as the kiss ended. “More?”

Gentle fingers stroked through Enjolras’ hair. “Have you ever been so full of fire, that you needed to either fight or fuck, or go mad? Or is your passion for Patria always pure?”

Enjolras licked his lips. “Never like this. Show me.”

Then Bahorel’s mouth was on his again, rougher than before, and Enjolras surrendered to the sensation. The next thing he knew, they were both up and moving, and soon his back hit the wall with a soft thud. He clutched at Bahorel’s hair and shoulders, surging up to meet Bahorel’s tongue with his own, while hands tugged at the fasteners of his shirt and trousers. Soon, those hands were stroking bare skin, learning the contours of his body as thoroughly as his tongue learned the contours of his mouth.  He shivered at the new sensation of fingers pinching his nipples to hardness.

When the kiss ended, he was almost embarrassed to let out a disappointed whine. Bahorel’s deep chuckle was strangely soothing. “Don’t fret. It’s just hardly fair that you’re the only one naked.” That, Enjolras heartily agreed with.

Bahorel shed his clothes with none of the reverent delight with which he’d stripped Enjolras, and then Enjolras found himself pushed again against the wall. This time, Bahorel’s mouth was buried in the crook of his neck, kissing and sucking at the soft flesh as if Enjolras were a feast prepared solely for him. Unwilling to be left out, Enjolras let his own hands wander. Bahorel’s muscles were big and solid, so unlike Enjolras’ own slim, lithe frame. But the skin of his lower back was incredibly soft, and Enjolras stroked and pet, before moving lower to squeeze Bahorel’s firm, muscular arse. That seemed to take the bigger man by surprise. Enjolras grinned up at him, and then their mouths were meeting again, both hot and hungry this time.

Somehow, they stumbled together, lips still locked, into the bedroom, where Bahorel expertly guided them to his bed. Enjolras was first to fall, tripping over a spare pair of boots and tumbling down onto the mattress, pulling Bahorel on top of him. Wordlessly, he encouraged Bahorel, with his hands and lips and tongue, to take full advantage of their new position.

“Beautiful,” Bahorel murmured against his throat. “So beautiful. The most amazing sight I’ve ever had the pleasure to see.”

Squirming beneath him, panting in pleasure, Enjoras thrust his hips up, rubbing their erect cocks together. It was easier, he found, to show what he wanted, rather than ask, and Bahorel obliged him, fisting their cocks together in his large hand.

“Ready for more?”

“Yes! Oh, yes.”

“Well then, happy to oblige, Chief.” Bahorel’s free hand slipped lower, searching between Enjolras’ legs. Enjolras spread his thighs wider, and reached up to kiss Bahorel again. He lost himself to kissing, hands roaming Bahorel’s back from shoulders to hips. When the first wet finger breached his entrance, Enjolras kissed more fiercely and clung to his lover. Another thick finger entered, and this time it was Enjolras’ turn to attack Bahorel’s neck, biting and sucking, while rutting against him. Bahorel took his time opening Enjolras up, happy to let Enjolras distract himself with his own body.

“Tell me if it hurts.”

Bahorel’s cock, Enjolras soon discovered, was much thicker than a couple fingers. But the burn was thrilling in a way, matching the furious fire he’d felt during the botched evening and the heat of the earlier kisses. Bahorel was a slow and gentle lover, but Enjolras, as he grew accustomed to the new sensation, found that he didn’t want careful consideration.

“More, faster!” He begged shamelessly, pushing back against each thrust. Bahorel’s answering grin was his only warning as the pace quickened roughly. And Enjolras found himself matching each thrust, one hand now wrapped around Bahorel’s on his own prick. They rode together, Bahorel pounding Enjolras into the thin mattress, as Enjolras demanded even more. Too tightly wound, soaring too high to last long, they released together.

 _Certainly not the worst way to resolve passions_ , was Enjolras’ last thought before succumbing to unconsciousness.


End file.
